


Ennui

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She files away the memory of how the silk of the slip looks against Angie's skin, allows herself a brief pat on the younger woman's bared shoulder, so that she knows what that skin feels like under her hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ennui

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Person A helping Person B pick out clothes to wear on a date with someone else

“Angie?” Peggy knocks a second time. “Angie are you in there?” The crisp tones of her voice reflect back at her, only silence her answer. She furrows a brow and purses her lips, wondering if she should be concerned, but just before she's about to turn away, the door is flung wide open, and the waitress-slash-actress tugs her inside before slamming the door shut behind her.

“Gee I'm glad you're here, English. I got a date with a real big wig, one of those Hollywood producer-type guys and I got no idea what to wear. You're real classy, help a girl out?”

Peggy blinks once, and carefully does not look as Angie shrugs off the robe she'd hastily thrown about her to answer the door, and shimmies into a tight blue number.

“Zip me?” she asks Peggy over her shoulder.

The SSR Agent forces her smile and nods, grateful her hands are sure and steady as she gently tugs the zipper up. She files away the memory of how the silk of the slip looks against Angie's skin, allows herself a brief pat on the younger woman's bared shoulder, so that she knows what that skin feels like under her hands.

“All set,” Peggy says brightly and then steps back. 

Angie turns and poses. “Whaddaya think?”

“You look lovely,” Peggy says over the thoughts of tearing that dress off Angie.

“Old ladies look 'lovely',” Angie complains and turns back around to eye herself in the mirror.

Peggy memorizes the curve of the waitress' backside, under the pretense of judging the fit. “Perhaps something a bit more daring?” she suggests. “Off-the shoulder, or lower cut?”

Angie snaps her fingers. “Now you're talkin', English!”

She wiggles backward so that Peggy can unzip her, and the agent gives herself a pat on the back for not lingering over it, though she  _ desperately _ wants to. Wants to trace kisses along every inch of skin as it's revealed, gently unclasp the brassiere and pull it free, tugs the silken underpants lower and cup the soft – 

“Hey! You okay?” Angie's snapping her fingers in front of Peggy's face.

“Oh, my apologies, Angie, I got lost thinking about something I need to do.” Peggy offers up a tight smile. “Work, you know.”

“Ugh, I know,” replies Angie, adjusting her chest after pulling on a golden-yellow gown, “they keep making me pull double shifts lately. How am I supposed to do auditions that way?”

Angie bounces a little to see how she moves in the dress, and Peggy suddenly can't breathe.

“Yes,” she manages, then coughs. “I think that's the one.”

“Gee, thanks!” Angie beams. “Hey, can I borrow your rollers? They do a better curl than mine.”

“Of course,” Peggy says, “I'll just. Just go retrieve them.”

She slips out of the room before Angie can respond and hurries to her own, going right to the basin and splashing her face with cold water.

Peggy takes a few moments to remind herself of all the reasons she needs to keep how she feels buried deep, and then sets about fixing her makeup. When she's done, she puts on her overcoat and grabs her hair rollers, drops them off at Angie's.

“I've an errand to run,” she yells through the door as she sets the box down in front of the waitress' door. “Good luck tonight!”

If Angie responds, she doesn't hear it, fleeing immediately.

-

“Miss Carter.” 

“Mister Jarvis.”

He stares down at her and it's not until she cocks an eyebrow at him then he steps back and lets her in the door. “You seem...troubled.”

She turns and watches him close the door to the Stark mansion and muses, nods finally. “I've begun...caring for someone.”

“Oh well, that does seem like a problem,” Edwin says dryly, and Peggy narrows her eyes briefly at him. “Tea, then?” He sweeps into the kitchen, with Peggy on his heels.

“It is a problem,” she says, after taking a sip from her cup. “You know as well as I do that I cannot afford...complications.”

Jarvis glances in the direction of his snug little apartment, where Anna is listening to her radio programme. “It's not that simple, is it, Miss Carter?” 

-

Peggy feels somewhat better as she returns home, and allows herself to have an extra glass of the wine she's got hidden away in the false bottom of her armoire. She's already tucked into bed – perhaps wallowing a bit, but she thinks it's to be expected, given her particular history – when a knock sounds on her door.

“Just a moment,” she calls out, and wraps a robe around herself over her nightgown as she slips from her bed.

“Angie,” she says in surprise as the younger woman sweeps past her, practically vibrating with rage. “Not a success, then?”

“Do you _know_ what that two-bit low-life wanted me to do?”

Peggy can give it a good guess.

“ _And_ ,” Angie continues, “he wasn't even a real producer, just said he knew someone who was.”

“I'm so sorry, dear,” Peggy sympathizes.

“What a waste of a good outfit.” Angie sighs and then tilts her head, perching on the side of Peggy's bed. “Ooh, hey, is that wine?” She grabs the bottle from Peggy's nightstand. “Oh, gosh, this is the good stuff! You got an extra glass?”

Peggy has never been able to deny Angie, nodding as she settles down beside the younger woman. She produces one from underneath the bed, and Angie pours it full, drinking it down perhaps a bit more quickly than such a vintage deserves, though she's probably entitled.

“Oh, English,” Angie sighs, laying her head on Peggy's shoulder after she finishes. “Why are men so horrible?”

Peggy wraps her arm across Angie's shoulders and squeezes her close, not thinking too hard about what she's doing.

“They're not all bad,” Peggy says, thinking of Steve, of Dugan, of Jarvis.

“Too bad you ain't a guy,” Angie mumbles. “You'd make a great beau.”

Peggy can't come up with an answer to that, and it seems it won't be necessary, for Angie's softly snoring already.

“Yes,” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Angie's head. “Too bad.”

 


End file.
